When Wolves Fly
by Wolves4lyf
Summary: With the death of Harry Potter comes the Life of Jaehaerys and Aegon Targaryen. Read as they travel the lands of always winter and the Seven kingdoms looking for their place in the world of Ice and Fire. Raised as the Bastards of Eddard Stark the honourable warden of the North. Harris and Jon Snow.
1. Content

**Summary:**

**With the death of Harry Potter comes the Life of Jaehaerys and Aegon Targaryen. Read as they travel the lands of always winter and the Seven kingdoms looking for their place in the world of Ice and Fire. Raised as the Bastards of Eddard Stark the honourable warden of the North. Harris and Jon Snow.**

**Content.**

**†**

**0• Prologue–283 AC**

**1• Harris I–299 AC**

**2• Harris II; Jon I–****299 AC**

**3•** **Jon II; Harris III–299 AC**

**4•**** Harris IV; Jon III–299 AC**

**5•** **Jon IV–299 AC**

**6•** **Harris V–299 AC**

**7•** **Grim I; Jon V–299 AC**

**8•...**

**9•...**

**10•...**


	2. Prologue

**This is the rewritten completely new and updated Prologue for Of Life and Death. I am terribly sorry for not updating at all for however long it has been. My ma has just come out of the hospital and I've been really stressed as of late and haven't the time to do this... I decided to keep this one over the other I like it better and now I have a better idea of what I want to do with this one. Again I am really sorry people, I will, from now on, endeavour to do better.**

**Yours Loyally,**

**Wolves.**

* * *

There was nothing. No sensation. No feeling. No thoughts. Just green. A green light that shines so brightly from the killing curse that hit Harry's body and then his vision went black. Black nothingness everywhere. It felt hollow. It felt empty. Darkness closing in.

Then suddenly bright unblemished pure sterile white without any source of light that shines behind his eyelids and Harry Potter slowly opened his eyes. Blinking at the sudden brightness that entered his vision, Harry stood from his lying position and using a hand to shadow his eyes from the brightness. Everything was so... white and nebulous the place surroundings still not completely formed into the matter. The more he looked however and the more he realized, there was something extremely familiar about the place he was in. It looked like King's Cross Station. A very clean, deserted King's Cross Station.

"Hello Harry..." a voice spoke from behind him.

Harry blinked and lowered his hand slowly turning around to face a smartly dressed older man. The man reminded Harry absently of professor Snape, though this man's hair was neatly combed back and he wore a muggle suit with a long dark overcoat and held what looked to be a steel-tipped cane in his hands his right resting on top of his left. Harry snorted he couldn't imagine Snape ever wearing a Muggle suit. He let his eyes linger on the man's hand, noticing a shiny silver ring with a pure white stone set in it, before returning his stare back to his black eyes. His pupils are seemingly nonexistent with how black they were.

"Who are you? Where am I?" He asked the man who sat on a bench and gestured for him to join him. Harry's brow furrowed at the nonanswer but complied nonetheless, feeling a strange sense of calm in the man's powerful presence. He likened the feeling of meeting an old friend after a long time. Then it hit him and he turned to face the man sitting next to him his mouth suddenly very dry and his eyes wide. "... Death..." he breathed in slight awe and caution.

The man, no, being gave him a half nod looking at him from the corner of his eye while he still faced the train track. "Indeed I am. As to where we are my boy... my apologies... Harry... we are in Limbo a place between life and death." Death amended when he noticed the grimace on Harry's face at being referred to as a boy.

A silence passed between them before Death, to Harry's complete bewilderment, tapped his forehead with the tip of his cane seemingly drawing something from it. Then suddenly a strange wriggling form of... something... appeared in the space between them. It was squirming and moaning. It looked like an overgrown deformed baby with badly burned raw skin and a pair very familiar blood-red eyes. It looked so pitiful and Harry almost felt bad for the creature, before realization struck him like a bolt of lightning and he recoiled violently in disgust. "Is... Is that what I think it is?" he all but hissed moving his body as far as he could away from it without falling off the bench.

Death looked almost amused at his reaction and nodded. "Indeed it is young Harry... though it is but a fragment of, the mortal known to you as, Voldemort's soul. You do not need to pity it, Harry, it is already dead. I am thankful for your part in removing the abomination, that was once called Tom Marvolo Riddle, from this plane of existence. It saved me the trouble of doing it myself. He shall remain here in limbo until the rest of him arrives where he will then be sent on to his eternal punishment in Hell." Death explained to Harry and the atmosphere descended to silence once more as they stared at the writhing form that had once been lodged in Harry's head. He shuddered at the thought of that pitiful creature being inside of his head.

Harry sighed breaking the silence. "So what happens now?" He asked Death removing his gaze from the Horcrux instead of turning his attention to the tracks as Death had earlier. Staring at nothing as he awaited the reply. He never did believe the Hallows were anything more than a curse, he knew that at the very least using the stone would have dire consequences. But when he had used them before he walked to his death he could have cared less he was going to die eventually. He snorted at the absurdity of the notion, Death isn't supposed to be controlled it is absolute, nothing outlives death.

But Harry couldn't help himself he wanted to know. He needed to know. He couldn't take this life anymore, so if he had a choice he would... would what though? He was already dead. Hesitantly he looked back at Death, who seemed to be bored, and asked his niggling question. "... Is reincarnation possible?."

Death blinked at that and leaned back against the bench, not having expected that from his so-called 'Master'. Death hummed thinking it over a plan forming in his mind the longer he did. He nodded slowly "It is, but it requires my explicit permission. Why?" He questioned the young adult genuinely curious.

Harry sighed and ran his finger through his hair. "I don't want to go back. Not to that life, I can't stand it. It feels as if my whole life was written to be controlled by others. I feel like someone is watching my every move and reading my every thought. It was a nightmare. I want it to end. I know I'm dead or whatever but I don't feel like moving on yet and I cant-don't want to go back there. To that life..." he griped to the horseman.

Death hummed again his idea still forming. Yes, he thought this would be perfect... And it would give this poor wizard a chance at real love, not this farce that he was destined to live in this life. Ginny wouldn't love him, she would use him for his fame and money that came with being 'Lady Potter' just as Ron had when they met.

Harry Potter had never felt real love in his entire life. Not after his parents were killed at any rate. It was time someone gave him something he deserved.

"I can give you a second chance at a family. Real family, not this mockery you have now. But you would have to give up everything that made you Harry Potter, last of the Potter family." Death told his young master something akin to a smile forming on his face as the thought of the anarchy his little plan could cause those fickle _deities _of this old world he would send him to. To stop it from nearing its end to quickly.

"Meaning what?" Harry frowned and shifted on the bench so he was fully facing the Horseman, the frown deepened when he noticed the tiny upturn of Death's lips.

"No fame, no titles, no vaults full of gold. Your magic may be tied into your soul, but you would have to live without remembering your past life unless something rather drastic happens of course." Death continued to smile disturbing Harry greatly.

"Fame? Fame has only brought me headaches. I've never used my titles, and gold is a poor substitute for what I really wanted. I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant a fresh start."

"I must warn you. If you do this, your life will be just as hard as it was in this one. And you may not like what I have done when you do remember." Death said rather cryptically reminding Harry vaguely of his manipulative old headmaster.

"But I won't be alone, will I?" He asked biting his lip at the prospect of once again having the world resting on his shoulders and no one to help him with the weight of it.

"No. The place I have in mind for you, you will not be alone. But it will be a life of darkness and pain." Death replied noticing his slight hesitancy.

"My life has been nothing but darkness and pain since that thrice-damned prophecy was made. How will this be any different than what I have already dealt with?" Harry griped again a heavy frown replacing his previous doubt and concern.

"Are you absolutely certain of this? There is no going back once I do this." The Horseman questioned just to be absolutely certain.

"I would give up anything you ask if it means I'm never alone and empty like this again." He had already died sad and alone for the greater good of the wizarding world once.

Death stood then and held out his hand his cane clutched lightly in his left hand. He seemed more real at that moment than he ever had before.

Harry briefly paused, a moment's second guess at this decision, before he firmly shook the Horseman's hand.

He felt his mortal shell die and disappear outside of the limbo. The soul of Harry James Potter, firmly held by the spectre, was sent flying back, past time and space until it shrunk into what appeared to be a newborn soul only the soul had split in two.

Death frowned at the tiny sparks, that was not supposed to happen, not at all. There was little he could do about it now time was running out if he wanted to stop the Cold One he needed to send the soul now souls on now.

* * *

The Tower of Joy, Dorne - 283 AC

The scream of a Woman rang out from above resounding off of the stone walls that the Tower was built from as Ned Stark, newly appointed Lord Paramount of the North after the death of his father and brother seemed to almost flying over the steps as he ran towards the screams of the only sister that he had ever known, praying that she would still be fine after all that Rhaegar had put her through.

As Ned ran through the corridor of the great tower of Joy and found the door from which the screams came from, he charged at the door and it opened, Ned with a sword in hand entered the room in order to ensure his sister's safety.

"Ned?" he heard his sister soft voice, softer than usual as he saw that Lyanna was lying in bed, a bed that was covered in blood, understanding what was happening here and that his sister was in no danger from an enemy that he could fight with a sword he lay it down along her bedside and came up to kneel before her.

"Lyanna" he replied

"Is that you?" she asked between laboured breaths "is that really you? and not a dream."

"No, I'm not a dream" Ned replied looking fearfully towards his sister as she was covered in blood "I'm here, right here."

"I want to be brave" Lyanna cried to Ned.

"You are," he replied looking upon his sister gravely.

"I'm not, I don't want to die."

* * *

"You're not going to die," Ned said almost shaking in fear at the thought.

"Get her some water! is there a Maester?" he cried to the handmaiden standing next to the bed.

"Listen to me Ned." his sister tried to cry out to him but she did not have the power to do so loudly so she brought his ear down, closer to her so that she did not have to strain her voice and so that he could hear her, "Their names are Aegon Targaryen and Jaehaerys Targaryen."

"If Robert finds out he'll ... " Lyanna could not bring herself to say the rest, but both knew what she implied "You know he will."

"You have to protect them."

"Promise me, Ned, Promise me," she said, Happy knowing that there was someone out there who knew and would look after her boys.

Lord Eddard Stark turned his head as he heard the sound of children crying, he saw the handmaiden that was once by the bed bringing in two young healthy boys. Twins. One had black hair with eyes that were a grey shade of blue, "Aegon" he was told by the handmaiden and the other Jaehaerys looked very much like his father though thankfully his hair was black and not the almost white-blond that the Targaryens were known for, however, it was his eyes that he showed just how much like his father he was for they were a deep shade of purple a trait that ran deep in the blood of old Valyria.

"Promise me, Ned, Promise Me." She managed to whisper out as her body grew still and her eyes became less focused and the air in her lungs ran out. Lyanna Stark was dead and the weeping of her brother Ned as well as the wails of the children who were not old enough to truly understand what they had lost became the only sounds that rang out from within the place known as the Tower of Joy.

* * *

** Seriously I am very sorry for lack of progress and my jumbled life getting in the way. But I am serious about continuing this, I now know what I want to do with this and now have a direction to head in. Any and all advice you can provide me is welcome.**** Well wishes,**** Wolves**


	3. Chapter One

**For this fic, I'm using both the Tv series and books timeline and some of the book characters will be added in.**

**Ages for those who don't know** **Jon Harry 16****; ****Robb 16****; ****Theon 19****; ****Sansa 13****; ****Arya 11****; ****Bran 10****; ****Rickon 6****; ****Eddard Stark 35 (books idk in tv)****Catelyn Stark 35**.

**I was going to have the twins be separated one go to the wall can't remember what happened in his previous life(yet) so he will be a bit ooc (for anybody who doesn't know what that means it means; out. of. character) or a lot ooc idk at this point. I would love to have some pointers or tips where I could use improvement. continue**.

* * *

Year 299 AC

Harris Snow

* * *

Before the light of the dawn, if one was out in the courtyard, they would be able to hear the sound of an arrow hitting the centre of a target repeatedly every five or so seconds and they would see that the person firing the arrows was a rather sweaty average height thin athletically built ten and six name days old young man on the cusp of adulthood, named Harris. The baseborn son of Eddard the 'honourable' Stark Lord of Winterfell Warden of the North he along with his older twin brother Jon Snow that is.

Harris was Eddard's second child born to an unknown woman sometimes at the end of the Rebellion. He was just short of six foot his shoulder-length black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as he loosed another arrow hitting the dead centre of the target splitting his previous one in half. His deep purple eyes narrowed in concentration as he drew the bowstring back once more another arrow loosed another thud of it hitting the target, another that was once more dead centre.

Sighing Harris lowered his bow and combed his fingers through his hair turning to walk out of the courtyard and back to his and his brother's rooms, courtesy of the Lady of Winterfell, Catelyn Stark née Tully. She claimed bastards didn't take up much room so they could stay together less trouble for the steward she said. Harris loathed that woman, they were motherless boys not allowed to know their own mother's name or what it feels like to have a mother, and yet she took her anger of her unfaithful husband out on two boys.

He remembered when his brother was sick when they were only seven name days old, the woman had sat by his brother's bed and prayed to her gods not to take this innocent boys life that she would care for him and Harris like her own, Harris heard her promising this to her gods; The Seven Who Are One. He felt some hope for him and his brother yet, but it died when he watched the woman continue to ridicule them and sneer at them breaking her promise to the gods she worshipped.

She influenced her children as well but it seemed to slide over their heads, with the exception of Sansa, like water under a bridge. He had thought but then everything he thought to be true turns out false in the end. Harris was in Winterfell's library when it happened.

He and Jon had their ninth name day the day before, he had started reading an old tome on the history of the ancient houses of the first men when Jon ran in with tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. He had asked what happened and he sobbed into Harris's shoulder telling him of the game he and Robb were playing, Lords of the castle or some such nonsense, and how he announced he was the Lord, he said how Robb got upset and told him and he quotes. "You can't be a Lord your just a bastard." Harris had held Jon tighter, Robb had never called them bastards until then, he suspected the old wench had a hand in it.

Harris shook his head free of his musings not realising he had stopped in front of the door, a thick wooden thing like the rest in the castle. His and Jon's room was situated in an almost shack-like building near the entrance of the castle. A small thing it could fit their beds, chests and drawers in it but that was it. He gathered his clean clothes and headed back out the door to godswood where the hot springs were, near the black pond by the heart tree. He stripped his clingy sweat-soaked woollen clothing off and slipped into the warm springs.

His half-siblings and the squid boy, for Theon Greyjoy, was no less, complained it was too hot for them to stay longer than half an hour. But he and Jon liked the heat.

They preferred cleaning in the springs because neither of them liked to hear Lady Starks complaints about them wasting water. As well as the fact it felt as if it cleansed them of their problems and doubts washing their worries away, plus the boys knew Lady Stark hated the godswood.

Harris breathed a deep sigh of relief as he closed his eyes and truly began to unwind, his toned muscles relaxed loosening up from his hard work out with his Ironwood Bow a gift from his uncle Benjen. One of many he has gifted them the one before the bow was a bastard sword that had black wolf heads on the crossguard the one on the pommel with shiny blue sapphires for the eyes Jon's was similar only white with ruby red eyes. They loved all his gifts even the small ones like the miniature carvings of wolves running, of course, all of Ned's children got one but the twins cherished theirs. They reminded them that they were apart of the pack however low in the ranks they may be. He smiled he loved his family, even Lady Stark... to an extent.

Quickly rinsing himself Harris stepped out of the water and dried himself off with the furs he had in his pile. He pulled his fur-lined tunic over his head and yanked the woollen breeches on and his black boots, then finally wrapped his black fur cloak around his shoulders. Picking up his dirty clothes and heading back to his room for a quick sleep. It baffled him how his brother could sleep this soundly and not hear him walking around and making loud noises. Shrugging he collapsed onto his bed and promptly drifted off to sleep.

As the sun rose so did the boys. They got up earlier than the others but Jon later than Harris. Jon was Harris's identical older twin the only way to separate them were their eyes, where Harris's were a deep purple Jon's were a grey so dark it could be mistaken for black. Everything else was the same from height, hair, right down to their Stark demeanour. Since that incident with Robb, both boys had forged a mask to cover their true emotions, to everyone who wasn't them saw two sullen lads who seemed more like their lord father than their half-siblings.

Harris got out of his bed his clothes still on him from the break of dawn and walked over to the reflective piece of metal they had in their room, he looked at his reflection for a second before combing his hair free of the tangles they gathered earlier. His brother did the same when he was finished.

They started their daily routine of heading to the library where they would continue the previous lesson they had with their half brothers and the castle Maester, Maester Luwin, they were mostly about war strategies and numbers. The bastards of Winterfell never missed a lesson, when one was sick the other would catch them up on that current lesson so they wouldn't be behind. Another thing the Lady of Winterfell hated them for was that they were more engrossed in their studies than her precious boys. They were taller, faster and smarter than Robb but they were both modest, they had once yearned for the attention now they want nothing to do with it.

They had lost track of time as usual so when Maester Luwin came in instead of reprimanding them, he informed them that they were to leave with their lord father's escort. His face was grim when he informed them that a deserter had been captured and they were required to be there for the event. They had left the library and collected their swords strapping them to their waists and Harris slung his bow over his shoulder as they mounted their horses and joined up with the rest of the party.

There were about twenty men in all, all there to see a man beheaded. Their younger half brother Bran came along as well, Harris frowned the boy was only ten name days old. He watched the young boy fidget on his pony with excitement. He heard Robb conversing with the ward and Jon, he smirked they thought it was a Wildling, with his sword sworn to Mance Rayder, the so-called King-beyond-the-Wall.

Harris knew him for what he was a deserter of the Night's Watch running from what he had seen beyond the Wall.

Harris was one to ponder the theories behind the hearth stories old nan used to tell them when they were younger. To him a wall thousands of feet tall made just to keep wildlings out just didn't make sense, why go through all the trouble building it if it was only to keep more men out? He often thought this when there were deserters. He believed that the Others although far fetched stories they were he thought that there was some truth behind them. The man had seen something that could make him abandon his vows and run as far as they could thinking death to be mercy from whatever it was he saw.

He and Jon could see the fear in the man's eyes as clear as day the others were blind to it. The man had lost both his ears and a couple of fingers to frostbite. He was old and scrawny and not much taller than Robb he was dressed head to toe in black, the same as a brother of the Night's Watch, only his furs were ragged and greasy.

The morning air was so cold you could see the horses and men's breath, steaming in the air. Harris watched as their lord father had the man cut down from the wall and dragged before them. He, Jon and Robb sat tall and still on their mounts with young Bran between the two other boys. He watched the boy try to mimic them, trying to make himself seem older than ten and pretend like he's seen this happen before, Harris's eyes twinkled with amusement before he turned back to watch the proceedings.

The Stark banner flapped above their heads in the wind: a snarling grey direwolf on a snow-white field. Their lord father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring slightly in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white making the man seem older than his thirty-five years. His eyes were grim and his face hard. To Harris, he seemed to replace their father with Lord Stark of Winterfell.

After what seemed an age in the chill of the morning his lord father gave the command and two of the guardsmen dragged the man to the ironwood stump in the centre of the square. He watched as they forced his head onto the hard black block of wood.

Lord Eddard Stark dismounted the ward, Theon Greyjoy, handed him his sword "Ice" It was the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Stark, Harris had read that all the great houses of Westeros had one, it was a beautiful thing that sword it was a great sword even taller than Bran was and it had that smoky look to it that most Valyrian Steel weapons had. Harris watched on as his lord father said what he usually did when he sentenced a man to death then he watched as the never dull blade sliced through the man's neck blood spirting from where his head used to be upon his shoulders. He saw his brother pat Bran on his shoulder before taking off with Robb, smirking Harris kicked his mount in the sides and caught up with his brothers have always been the better rider out of the trio.

Robb slowed to a stop spotting something in the distance he dismounted and walked closer drawing his sword cautiously, then he turned to them and grinned Harris and Jon's eyes were as wide as saucers and Jon turned his mount around and raced back to the others while Harris dismounted and walked over to Robb and the beast of a wolf at his feet maggots crawling in its eyes and five pups trying tis feed off its milk.

"It's a direwolf," Harry whispered in awe.

Robb looked at him and grinned "aye it is." He replied just as Jon reappeared with the rest of the party. He watched as Jory Cassel unsheathed his sword pointing it at the beast and telling the two of them to step away from it.

Smiling Robb said, "She can't hurt us, Jory, she's dead." At the same time as Bran asked what it was.

"It's a freak that's what it is," Theon said with barely disguised disgust. Harris stilled and unknowingly flinched when Theon said the word freak, his brother noticed it and frowned.

"It's a direwolf," Robb said rolling his eyes at his friend as he picked one of the pups up and handed it to Bran, who beamed at his brother and held it close to his chest when his father and the ward said to kill them. Harris and Jon shared a look and stepped forward.

"Lord Stark there are five pups"

"Three male and two female," the twins said in tandem.

"What of it boys?"

They shared another look and nodded.

"You have five trueborn children."

"Three sons, two daughters."

"The direwolf is the sigil of your house."

"Your children were meant to have."

"These pups, my lord." They finished together.

Harris saw their father's face changed, and he saw the men share glances. They knew what they were doing by excluding themselves from the count making the number right. He saw the understanding and affection shining in young Bran's eyes.

He knew their father understood what they had done as well. "You want no pup for yourselves, Harris, Jon?" He asked them softly.

"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,"

Jon points out.

"We are not Starks, Father." Harris finished for them both.

After a short discussion on the subject of the pups their lord father gave in and agreed only if they cared for them and trained them themselves leaving it at that. "It's time we he back to Winterfell" was all he said turning his mount and continuing across the bridge.

Halfway across both Harris and Jon stopped their horses suddenly their father noticed they seemed to be listening for something.

"What is it, boys?" Their lord father asked them.

"Can't you hear it?" They asked.

No doubt all they could hear was the wind in the trees or the horse's hooves on the bridge. But they were listening to something else.

"There," the twins said in union both swung their horses around and trotted back across the bridge. Harris stopped and nodded to his brother, silently communicating that he should go. He watched Jon dismount trudge through the snow back to the dead direwolf, watched him kneel. A moment later he came back grinning a handed Harris a ball of black fur, both had huge smiles on their faces when they returned.

"They must have crawled away from the others," Jon said.

"Or been driven away." Their lord father said, looking at the pups in the twin's arms. Harris's was black with blue eyes, and Jon's was snow-white with blood-red eyes. The rest of the litter were various shades of grey.

* * *

**Not much had to be altered in this one...**


	4. Chapter Two

**My apologies for taking so long it's just life tends to get in the way of all hobbies and sideshows.** **And I finally decided I like this one better... eheh sorry...**

**Also, I have been with my Ma for most of this year, for medical reasons...**

**Anyway, here it is.**

* * *

Harris

* * *

Harris dismounted his horse careful not to jostle the small bundle he held in his arms. Both himself and Jon had ended up with the runts of the litter, Greyjoy said they would be the first to die, Harris doubted him.

He nodded to Hodor, the simpleminded stable hand who dwarfed most northerners if he didn't count the Great Jon and his son Small Jon. Hodor took his horses reigns leading his stead away to be fed and watered. Harris met up with his brother and half-siblings in the kitchen where they seemed to be arguing over names for their new companions. Pet was too docile of a word for them, they were direwolves, not puppy dogs. They were companions no more and no less.

He hadn't actually thought of a name for his yet but neither had Bran, Jon called his Ghost for his unsettling silence. His pup was similar but he didn't think Ghost would fit his very well and his brother had already named his that. He held the pup up to his face by the scruff of his neck, his eyes upon closer inspection were more silver-yellow than the clouded grey most newborns would normally have. Ghost being the exception to that as an albino.

He blinked when the pup bared his fangs at him in what looked like an attempt to smile, his fluffy black tail started to wag wildly and Harris had to pull away when it licked his nose. He supposed that's what he gets for holding it so close to his face. He could hear his half-sister Arya laughing from his left, she had sat herself down on the available space next to him on a barrel. Along with little Rickon, Arya was his favourite half-sibling Bran was a close third Sansa was too much of a mini Lady Stark for his taste and Robb had burned that bridge long ago.

Harris rolled his eyes at her lowering the pup back into his lap. He was glad Lady Stark had left the room on _important _business or something, he could breath easier without her heated glares sent his way. She seemed to hate him far more than she did Jon, why he could care less so long as she kept to herself he was fine. He squinted at his sister, she had dirt on her nose and her dark brown hair wasn't done up as her Lady mother would insist on having it, it was a birds nest. Arya seemed not to notice this, or more likely she didn't care.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, little sister?" He said.

She was bouncing on her perch, her pup seemed to be annoyed with this like the others it had yet to open its eyes. Only Ghost and his own pup were seemingly developed enough despite being runts. "Have you thought of a name yet Harris? Mine is Nymeria like the warrior princess and Jon called his Ghost 'cause he's really quiet, Sansa named hers _Lady_. What kind of name is that anyway? It's a wolf, not a bird. Rickon is too scared of his one the wuss. Bran keeps changing what he's going to call his and Robb wants to wait until his is older. I don't really know why I think that's stupid they need names so they know who they are." She rambled poking him in the side incessantly her Stark grey eyes begging him for answers.

He swatted her hand away and sighed looking back down at the direwolf in his arms with a thoughtful frown. He shrugged, "Not yet, I'm sure one will come to me though, there's plenty of time for it. And really little sister its _Sansa _you're talking about, do you really expect her to name a direwolf anything else?" they both laughed at that, he may care greatly for his pack. But Sansa made it really hard for him to like her he could feel her glare but he didn't really care the worst she could do was complain to her mother. Who in turn, would complain to their father who wouldn't do anything. "Rickon's only six namedays, Arya he's allowed to be afraid... I bet he'll be clinging to his by the next dawn." He said with a hint of a challenge in his tone.

Arya grinned at him and skipped away, with Nymeria whining in her arms. He shook his head getting up to leave the kitchen when the servants shooed them all out so they could prepare dinner. He met up with Jon on their way back to their room. He bumped his brother's shoulder jostling him out of what was most likely his brooding. "Feel like sparring on the morrow?" he asked.

Jon raised a brow at him his dark grey eyes boring into his own deep purple. "If that's what you want. I would gladly serve you another round of dirt." His younger twin japed with a twinkle in his eye.

"Dream on, I let you win that time." Harris scoffed at him.

Jon laughed then and Harris smiled back, it was an ongoing joke between them. Harris was the best marksman in Winterfell even if Greyjoy claimed it was him everyone knew otherwise even Lady Stark. While Jon was the swordsman of the two. They could both wield a blade but Jon was a master of the art while Harris was a Marksman through and through. But both of them loved riding more than anything else, it was the most freeing feeling having the wind in their faces and their legs at the horse's sides. It was the closest either of them could get to flying.

* * *

Jon

* * *

Jon was sweaty and tired as he battled his brother, in the courtyard their bastard swords held firm in their hands. Their swords uncanny resemblance to their direwolves did not go unnoticed by either of them.

His muscles strained as he parried another of Harris' onslaughts of attacks barely managing to throw him back to regain his own footing. They circled each other a few times looking for weakness, which in his case shouldn't be too difficult with how tired he was.

Jon noticed his brothers frustration as soon as they returned but decided to let it be unless it didn't settle on the morrow. It didn't, but Jon was saved the trouble of asking himself when Harris suggested they spar, he was sorely regretting his decision to agreeing to spar with his brother. Sure he was the better swordsman but Harris had more energy. It was really the only thing Jon had ever been truly jealous of, his brother's ability to keep fighting without becoming breathless too early into a match.

His thoughts wandered to what could have possibly been bothering his twin so much in the past sennight. Even before the day prior to this day, something had been bothering his brother and it showed. He was less patient with their half-siblings and had less restraint when Theon challenged him in the training yard.

Jon knew of his brother's desire to travel and to possibly join the citadel, to become a Maester so he can help people, even if it meant being celibate. Though Jon couldn't help but feel his brother had an ulterior motive for wanting to join the Maesters, Harris had always told him of his longing for a family to call his own so for him to become a Maester would be giving up on that dream and it made Jon suspicious. He ducked a slash aimed at his neck and refocused on his twin, his musings could wait.

Their direwolf pups were playing silently on the sideline. They were less of a handful than originally thought; Jon and Harris both named theirs for their unnerving silence.

Jon named his Ghost and Harris had finally decided on naming his. His twin eventually thought it best to name the fierce black bundle of fur Grim because it was close enough to Ghost as he could get, where his pup was deadly silent Harris' held a more grim silence about him this the name. Both of the pups eyes were filled with a disturbing intelligence too.

Jon just barely managed to parry another strike aimed at his neck. He was beginning to tire of this and lazily slashed his bastard sword at Harris in a downward arch only for his twin to slide his own along the edge of the bade down to the hilt Harris gave it a sharp twist and successfully disarmed him flinging his weapon far out of his reach. Jon groaned when he felt the tip of his brother's sword at his throat, he held up his hands in a silent sign of defeat. This was a first but in his defence, his mind had wondered which would have been fatal if it were to happen in battle.

Harris was smirking at him obviously his attempt to draw him out of his brooding had worked. Though it had probably cost him a week's worth of bruises. Jon thought as he made his way over to the wooden bench at the edge of the courtyard the sun still hadn't touched the sky yet. It is much too early for it, being early risers helped them to keep ahead of their half-brother and Theon. He grasped his waterskin uncapping and greedily gulping it down, sputtering when Harris clasped his shoulder. He shot a glare at him but it held no heat just annoyance.

"I know what you did brother... I—thank you." his brother said after a moments pause. He was surprised it was a rarity in its self for Harris to thank anyone.

Jon nodded his acknowledgement as he wiped his face Ghost brushing up against his leg. He smiled down at the beast and picked him up by his scruff carrying him back to their room. He supposed he could talk to his brother about his choice to join the Black brothers when the sun was higher, but right now he needed to sleep.

* * *

**I really am sorry it took so long guys it's just my ma has been real unwell lately and I'm out of a job I am trying to get back into this but it's hard.**


	5. Chapter Three

**I am trying here so please don't be too harsh in your assessment of this. It is longer than I would have liked but it should do until next time.**** Wolves;3**

* * *

Jon

* * *

The visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of gold and silver and polished steel, three hundred strong, a pride of bannermen and knights, of sworn swords and free-riders.

Jon stood off to the side with his twin Lady Stark had insisted on the pair of them shaving their faces, along with Robb and Theon. He nor his brother knew why they were required to, it wasn't as if she was going to have them anywhere they could be seen. They were proven right, when Bran spotted the kings horses, they were told to stand at the back off to the side with Theon and Maester Luwin after she scolded her son for climbing the castle walls to get a better look.

As much as Harris loathed the woman Jon himself feared her. He recalls a time he had accidentally called her mother when he was five-name-days-old and the look she had given him, Harris had been in the library with the Maester learning to read or something of the like when it happened, the spiteful words she threw at him the slap she delivered to his left cheek. '_I am not your mother... you–You and your brother are nothing more than motherless bastards my husband brought with him after the rebellion! you have no mother!_' Jon never told his brother about it, he had been too young and despite being a child he was the oldest between them and thought that he shouldn't be troubling his younger brother with his woes.

Then came the incident with Robb being the only time he had told his brother of his insecurity and he cried on Harris, Jon blamed himself for his twin's hatred of their half-brother. If he hadn't gone to him maybe his brother wouldn't want to leave Winterfell for the Maesters, maybe they could have been Vassals for their lord father.

After their spar half-a-sennight ago Jon had told his brother that he had wanted to join the Night's Watch, Harris didn't comment he just gave him a long hard stare that had made any who had it directed at them shift uncomfortably under it's the weight. His deep purple eyes looked like glowing amethysts in their candle-lit room and Jon wanted to rethink his decision, after what had seemed an age to him, his brother just turned and left to break his fast in the kitchens with the servants leaving him to eat with his half-siblings alone. The rest of the days leading up to now had been as if nothing had happened, neither of them spoke of it again. But he wanted to, the last thing he wanted was to drive a wedge between himself and his twin over something like joining the Night's Watch, he didn't think it was very fair of his brother to shun him for doing pretty much exactly what he himself was planning. Becoming a Maester and a Black Brother were hardly any different, both had vows that forbid siring any children or owning any kind of land of their own, both had their risks.

Jon shook his head to focus on the proceedings. Over the heads of the riders, a dozen golden banners whipped back and forth in the northern wind, emblazoned with the crowned stag of Baratheon. Jon recognised a few of the riders as men from his father's tales he had told them by the hearth. He noticed the golden-haired rider first, he could only guess that this was the famed Ser Jaime Lannister or as his father called him, the Kingslayer, his father had told them of how he came upon the young knight in the throne room of Kingslanding. Sitting atop the throne made of the thousand blades of Aegon's enemies, his bloodied sword impaled in the kings back his smug smirk... his attention drifted next to the terribly burned face of Sandor Clegane, the Hound another Lannister man, Jon had heard stories of how he had burned his face. They say it was his older brother, Gregor, they say he held his face against the burning coals of a fire bannister as he struggled and pleaded. Jon knew his brother hated the Mountain, Ser Gregor's Alias a name he got for his tremendous height if he wasn't a westerner Jon would have thought he had giants blood in him like many claimed Hodor and the Great Jon Umber had in them. His brother told him about the history book, he had discovered, that regaled the tale of the sack of King's Landing, how it read of Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for the Mountain to have mercy for her son, Aegon, who he ripped from her breast and brutally murdered in front of her, of the babes head being smashed against the wall before he raped her.

His brother had even told him of the other Lannisters involved in the rebellion, waiting to join right when the war was won, of Armory Lorch and his equally disgusting act, stabbing the young Princess Rhaenys to death as she screamed for her mother. Jon was revolted by this, they had been twelve namedays then, how his brother had come across such a detail book he didn't know, and he didn't want to if those were truthful details.

Riding next to the Hound was a tall boy around his half-sister Sansa's age, maybe a bit older if that was who he thought it was. The crown prince, Prince Joffrey, golden-haired and incredibly arrogant looking a sneer was plastered on his youthful face, Jon frowned when he noticed Sansa turning red and smiling like a maiden that she was at the prince when he looked her way, Robb noticed it too. He could hear his twins eye roll at her, Jon never did understand why he disliked her so much she was their sister. Sure she was rude to them, but they were bastards it was only normal for her to copy her mother he believes she would eventually grow out of it but Harris didn't.

At the head of the column, flanked by two knights in the snow-white cloaks of the Kingsguard was a huge man, who much to Jon's disappointment was nothing like the great man his father had talked of often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, the demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks as he _'vaulted'_ off the back of the poor war horse that had to carry him, he was so overweight the King had to have his servants fetch him some steps to get off his mount.

Jon knelt along with the rest of the Stark household as the King stomped over to their father. He watched as he motioned with his finger for him to stand, and after Lord Stark, everyone else followed. The seemed to eye each other silently before the King broke it with his comment.

"Your Grace." Were his father's words of greeting but the kings took the cake.

"You've got fat." Jon blinked and shared a look with both his twin and Robb. He bit his lip when he saw the back of his fathers head tilt as if he was looking the king up and down saying _'Are you sure I'm who you mean?' _ a look that said plenty for such a small movement.

It seemed everyone was baffled at the comment and waited with bated breath before the pair started laughing. Or what Jon assumed was a laugh from King Robert, it sounded more like the wheezing of a dying animal but with the King looking as if he were about to keel over he supposed it was an apt description.

Then started the introductions. First was Lady Stark or _"Cat." _as the King had announced as he brought her in for a bear hug, it was times like this Jon was very glad he was a bastard no doubt Harris thought the same thing. He ruffled little Rickon's hair before turning back to Lord Stark.

"Nine years... Why haven't I seen ya? where the Hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." his father replied evenly, Jon could hear the smile in his voice, he bit his lip when he heard Arya's loud inquiry, so he wouldn't laugh he heard his brother snort but Harris was otherwise silent.

"Where's the Imp?" She asked rudely before being told by Sansa to shut up.

The King moved on from their father to Robb, then Sansa and Arya then Bran. Then Ser Jaime caught Arya's attention to the twin's amusement and Sansa's obvious disgruntlement started spouting off random facts about him.

Jon also took note of the woman who looked a lot like a female version of Ser Jaime. Only she was as beautiful as most claimed her to be. A jewelled tiara gleamed amidst her golden hair, it's emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. She wore a smile that seemed too practised to be real, she didn't so much as spare either him or his brother a glance. Not that Harris seemed to care with the way he left with the dispersing crowd when the pleasantries had been settled. He watched as Grim tailed him, the beasts were growing at a fast pace, being at their knees in under a sennight of growth. Ghost was still the smallest and the quietest. He leaned down to scratch his companion's ear as he left in the same direction his brother had.

* * *

Harris

* * *

There were times—not many, but a few—when Harris was glad to be a bastard. As he woke that morning with a sore back from his poorly made straw bed, with sweat collecting on his brow he knew that this wasn't one of them. He woke from a nightmare, he knew Jon had them too, but neither himself nor Jon wanted to speak of them. There was always a screaming woman involved and a green flash. At first, he had thought the green was from the fabled wildfire but as the dreams grew more frequent he realised it was an unnatural flash that couldn't be caused by a fire.

Fires raged and roared and, Wildfire was said to last for days when the green flash was only a fraction of a second before there was silence. So he deduced that it couldn't be a fire he scoured the Winterfell library for similar occurrences but came up mostly blank, the only thing that even remotely matched his dream was the one thing that hadn't been seen in over a hundred years. That was Magic.

Something he suspected—just like the White Walkers—had at one point existed, there were legends about Starks having magical abilities that allowed them to share a mind with their Direwolf companions. This piqued his interest even more before now direwolves hadn't been seen south of the Wall until Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, chose to swear fealty to Aegon the Dragon rather than give battle. With their sudden appearance, Harris knew in his bones that a war was coming.

Where and when he wasn't certain but he knew that it was going to be one that required the unity of the Seven Kingdoms. But with how poorly he knew this King Robert was doing at governing said Kingdom, he didn't believe it would be possible, whatever Deity that was giving him these dreams—he refused to believe this was all coincidental—was trying to prepare them.

Perhaps Harris had been wrong to put off talking to his brother about joining the Night's Watch maybe that was where they were needed. The deserter was another telling thing that something was going on beyond the Wall and he was going to find out what it was, even if it killed him. His brother told him of his desire to join the night's Watch, he was against it because of his brother's reasoning for it was clouded by his other desire to prove to Lady Stark that he can be just as honourable as Robb. Jon didn't realise, no he did he was just ignoring it, Harris suddenly clicked his brother already knows of the Watch's worsened state with which rapists, murderers and their ilk are sent when prison cells get too full but refused to believe it because their uncle Benjen isn't like them, nor was Jeor Mormont. But that was only two good men in a pit of fifty or so bad ones. Then there was Mance Rayder the ranger turned King-Beyond-The-Wall.

Harris shivered he always hated hyphenated titles so did Jon. He knew the man he had come to Winterfell once when they were much younger and he still openly cared about Robb and played with his twin. They had planned to dump snow on Tom when Rayder caught them but he promised he wouldn't give them away and they spent the rest of the day running from Tom laughing. That had been one of Harris's better memories with his half-brother. From what he could tell the man had good morals, he wouldn't be rounding up wildlings for anything. Perhaps one day he could decern his reasoning for it. But for now, Harris would be better off preparing for the Kings arrival, now that certainly wasn't a surprise to Harris. He had heard of his Lord Fathers foster father, Jon Arryn of the Vale and Hand of the king _untimely demise_ but if records are correct the man was way past his prime. Another thing Harris wanted to look into he would go north first then south.

He stretched his long limbs as he sat at the edge of his straw bed stretching Grim behind his ear, he was already at his knees which Harris had marked down in his leather-bound journal he was frequently adding notes to when he wasn't in the yard or library. It was time to break his fast then he would talk to his brother when the King and his party had settled in.

* * *

**Well hi again! Another chapter is done and more to come I am still jobless and helping my parents on the farm and caring for my Ma.**

** Yours Loyally,**

** Wolves**


	6. Chapter Four

**Book events began around 297AC while the show was 298AC. When I started this I bumped the year up to 299AC so that is what it will stay at so some characters ages and death dates will be altered to suit this story's needs,**

**Yours faithfully,**

**Wolves**

* * *

Harris

* * *

The godswood had always been one of his favourite places to visit in Winterfell. It surrounded by three acres of old forest untouched for thousands of years, well when he isn't exploring it and nothing down the creatures that call it there home, Lady Stark hated the place something that endeared Harris to it even more. The whole castle household knew of her _discomfort _whenever she was near it, anything that made that woman uncomfortable brought a smile to his face—no matter how fleeting they were—but Harris would admit that it more often than not smelt of moist earth and decay. Not the most pleasant of smells but certainly better than all of the perfume the southerners coated themselves in, an attempt to mask their sweat. Most likely from their long journey north.

He loved to sit at the edge of the black pond on the soft moss-covered earth, near the heart tree, the long face that had been carved into the bone-white bark of the tree centuries ago at his back, its blood-coloured leaves hanging in the canopy above him. As if the old gods were watching over them he likened the feeling too. There weren't anymore weirwoods in the south, with the exception of the Isle of Faces where the green men kept their silent watch, that was another place he wished to go if only to sate his curiosity, most of the weirwoods—or heart trees as the northerners, like himself, called them—south of the Neck had been cut down or out thousands of years ago.

Up here in the North, every castle had its godswood, and every godswood had its heart tree, and every heart tree had its face. He had heard rumours of Boltons continuing their practice of flaying and sacrificing the remains of their victims on their heart tree in the Dreadfort. Harris himself took the rumours with a grain of salt he had seen Roose Bolton before, the Lord of the Dreadfort was an unnerving man. He seemed to be convinced that regular leechings would improve personal health, and as such frequently leeches himself, leading to him being called the Leech Lord. He was to Harris at least, fairly unremarkable with his pasty skin and average body being neither plump, thin, nor muscular as most other Lords of the North he had seen. The only thing about the man Harris even found remotely interesting was his almost ghost grey eyes that when Harris had first seen them when he was thirteen namedays at one of the summers gatherings, looked like two white moons paler than stone but oddly darker than milk. His voice from all he had heard was soft and quiet both he and his twin had to strain from their perches outside their fathers solar on a stone ledge when it was his turn to speak.

Harris had been in correspondence with his son Domeric whom he had met when their father had taken him to White Harbour. Well himself Jon, Robb and Greyjoy some kind of negotiations with the Lord of White Harbour, Wayman Manderly he had made his excuses as a bored child was wont to do.

He met Domeric when he was taking his mount to the white knife to water it. The lordling was plucking a harp and humming, with his own horse lazing in the grass behind him, Harris, of course, didn't know who he was at the time and struck up a conversation something he did often with people who piqued his interest. He was around Theon's age and a decent conversationalist he told Harris he was in White Harbour for his journey home to the Dreadfort, from his foster family with Lord Redfort a Lord of the Vale. That prompted more questions from him about the Vale, a place he had only heard of from his father's own childhood spent in the Eyrie with Jon Arryn, earning himself the question of who his father was.

When he told Domeric about his family, his ice blue-eyed companion grew solemn, by that time Harris already knew him to be the Leech Lords, son and heir, he admitted to wanting to have a sibling but his father refused to remarry and the fourteen nameday old Harris knew then the older teen didn't know of his bastard brother, he was smart enough to know that it wasn't his place to say being a bastard himself and knowing there was a possible reason Lord Bolton hadn't told his son of his bastard. He switched topics to safer waters by asking about his stead.

Which had led to the pair of them racing back to the Harbour, where his father had scolded him lightly for disappearing he had apparently been about to send out his guards to search for him while his twin narrowed his eyes and lifted an eyebrow.

Harris sighed when he felt the cold nose of Grim touch his cheek breaking him from his memories. His gaze falling to the black pond he didn't realise he was leaning forward until his head hit the water, but by then it was too late. The last thing he had heard before he lost consciousness was something else breaking the water beside him, his vision was black.

* * *

Jon

* * *

He had just entered the godswood when Ghost rushed past him bowling into the back of his legs causing him to stumble forward. Jon steadied himself before he felt something akin to dread to settle in the pit of his stomach when his direwolf came back to tug on his trouser leg. Worried for his brother he hurried after Ghost.

When he saw his brother staring blankly at the pond he darted forward to grab the back of his tunic as his twin began to lean in. But missed by a hair and fell in after him water entering his lungs as he gasped. Then blinked in confusion when he wasn't drowning, he had always been a strong swimmer but he was certain anyone would drown if they couldn't expel the water that entered their lungs. Suddenly he felt a pull behind his navel, and his body jerked forward violently the black nothingness of the pond burned white and Jon screamed squeezing his eyes tightly shut and reaching out for Harris who was still out. Then the feeling stopped, and he could breathe properly again, but he didn't open his eyes.

"Hmm, well I suppose it is better that you are both here. It saves me the trouble of repeating myself." A bored sounding silky voice droned in the silence that had encased them seconds ago. Jon snapped his eyes open at the unknown but disturbingly familiar voice.

* * *

**Cutting this off here I know it was really short but it was mostly a filler chapter, it may or may not be redone in the future you may think these are rushed. I'd agree but if I didn't have these short one's I won't even bother with the longer ones, I'm trying to moderate it, the shorter ones will most likely be like this one where past comes into play with little to no dialogue.**

** .**

** Most of the start is going to be the twins perspective but will change as they start moving around. I am purposely trying to be vague in these authors notes just to keep you readers interested if I give everything away now it takes away most of the point in reading the story. Spoilers are lame and I'd be even more of a hypocrite if I keep giving them to you.**

.

** Also if any of you have pairing suggestions for this or just people you want in this story write it in your review or PM me your requested character they can be Canon characters from both show and books or even OCs if you really want but you have to give me specifics if you want one in this story and I'd obviously have to agree with what you want them to be doing in this story. Advice is always welcome, I am forever looking to improve my writing.**

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** Well Wishes,**

** .**

** Wolves;3**


	7. Chapter Five

**This is a singular POV chapter so significantly shorter than any prior to it. My apologies for the inconsistency of the chapters but I have literally barely even begun the story...**

**.**

**Yours Loyally,**

**.**

**Wolves**

* * *

Jon

* * *

"Hmm, well I suppose it is better that you are both here. It saves me the trouble of repeating myself." A bored sounding silky voice droned in the silence that had encased them seconds ago. Jon snapped his eyes open at the unknown but disturbingly familiar voice.

He had to blink at the sudden brightness that entered his vision, Jon stood from his slumped position on the_—White?—_moss-covered ground, using a hand to shadow his eyes from the brightness. The godswood that was usually so dark and primal was now white and unnatural. It was unsettling, his brother was still laying on the ground at the edge of the... Jon blinked again furrowing his brow he could have sworn the pond used to be black his brother was still half in it. He was about to pull him out when the voice startled him again. It was so quiet here he had forgotten about the stranger who had previously spoken to him.

"Hello, Jon..." it the same unknown voice uttered from behind him.

Jon straightened his back and lowered his hand slowly turning around to face—Jon rubbed his eyes, before blinking rapidly—a dark robe-clad figure whose cowl covered half of their face obscuring their eyes from his view. He wasn't entirely sure if what he was seeing was real. The figure vaguely reminded Jon of the statue of the Stranger in the sept their father had built for Lady Stark when they had married. The figure held what Jon thought to be a greatsword in his hands his right resting on top of his left on the pommel that upon closer inspection looked like a human head or skull with black onyx stones for the eyes. Jon let his eyes linger on the man's skeletal right hand, noticing a shiny gold ring with a pitch-black stone set in it, before returning his gaze to where he assumed the figure's eyes were hidden beneath the cowl.

"Where are we?" He asked the figure instead of questioning who it was they were. He had an inkling he knew, but he wanted to be wrong. The figure who stood in front of a black version of the heart tree he was used to seeing in the normal godswood, the leaves of this tree were green as opposed to their bloody red only gestured for him to join them.

Jon frowned lightly at the nonanswer but, knew better than to argue and complied, feeling a strange sense of unease in the figures powerful presence. He likened the feeling of meeting someone new and unknown. Then it hit him and he turned to face the man sitting next to him his mouth suddenly very dry and his eyes wide in slight awe but mostly fear.

The man, no, Deity gave him a half nod looking at him from the corner of his eye while he still faced the train track. "I see you know who I am. Your brother, I suspect, does as well, despite his current state at your feet." the Strangers same bored tone echoed in the unnatural place as he gestured to Jon's twin who had still not woken with a pale boned hand. "This place is one of many that exist outside the mortal plane. It is where beings such as I, come to commune with our mortal champions. You and your brother have yet to remember your past but, I believe you have dreams about it. Or you're last moments at least..." the deity droned.

Jon narrowed his eyes the only thing he dreams about was the blood-red eyes of what he thought was a snake then the mad laugh that follows the green light... "Those are night terrors, not dreams," he said a might bit irritated at the line of conversation. It was leading them nowhere.

"What do you mean by that?" the voice of his brother startles him out of his brooding. Harris's purple eyes met his dark grey borderline black ones, he clasped Jon's offered forearm to pull himself up. His brother righted himself before eyeing the Deity warily his eyes too seemed to linger on the ring.

Jon returned his own gaze to the Stranger. _Death_, Jon thought. He hadn't forgotten what it was the Deity represents. Perhaps his brother had, with that in mind Jon rested a hand on his twin's shoulder jostling him from his trance. He too wished to know why they were here and what the deity was talking about but unlike Harris Jon was patient.

"Hmmm, Death was correct in his assessment of your souls. Two halves of the one mortal unfortunate enough to unite his Hallows, he who didn't wish to continue his wasted existence in his old world so asked a boon from Death. You see my counterpart, held a certain fondness for that mortal and chose to grant him this boon at the cost of their memories, fame, fortune and everything that made them who they were.

"A miscalculation on Death's part, the agreement split the mortal soul in two right as he was to be sent on, leaving Death no time to fix his mistake. As the soul's former vessel turned to ash, Death sent the near-identical souls to Planetos were they were reborn as the two of you. He sent you here to stop the potential destruction of the world and more than likely cause turmoil within certain Godly circles. I must add before either of you can implore, I cannot reveal to you the name of your birth mother that is something you have to learn for yourselves. Time is wasted the longer I speak, you must leave and prepare yourselves for the war that comes with the cold. The North has forgotten the true meaning of the words _Winter is Coming_, and you, young Harris, are left with these words; _the Red Stallion will not survive the Snow. _I am told you will know the meaning behind the cryptic phrase, for now, this is farewell." The Stranger ended his lecture, bidding them a fortune in the war to come as he mounted a pale mare that hadn't previously been anywhere in sight. Fading the further he went into the strangely coloured thicket of trees.

Jon felt the same pull behind his navel and groaned before clamping a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. They were going to be late for the feast.

* * *

Dogs moved between the tables, trailing after the serving girls. One of them, a black mongrel bitch with long yellow eyes caught the scent of the honeyed chicken half he had fed to his pup. Ghost ripped into it in savage silence sharing it only with Grim who tore off a leg and huddled with it at his brother's feet, Harris was watching the proceedings while Jon himself watched over their pups. His half brothers and sisters had not been permitted to being their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one said a word about either of the pups. He told himself he was fortunate in that too being a bastard certainly had its perks his brother would often say.

The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Both Ghost and Grim looked up and Jon saw his brother turn his attention to watch them as well. Ghost fixed the dog with those hot red eyes in a silent challenge while Grim bared his teeth. The bitch snapped angrily in a challenge. She was twice the size of both direwolf pups. Neither of them moved. He mimicked his black-furred brother and stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barking again, but thought better of this fight. It was two wolves, direwolves no less, against a dog. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to save her pride. Both Ghost and Grim went back to their meals.

Jon grinned, so too did his brother they reached under the table simultaneously and ruffled the shaggy fur of their pups. Ghost looked up at him, nipped his hand gently before returning to his meal.

"Are these two of the direwolves I've heard so much of?" a familiar voice asked close at hand.

Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his and Harris's heads ruffling their hair just as they had done to their wolves. His brother grinned, maybe they had too much to drink it wasn't often his brother would smile, he was always grim-faced or broody looking when he wasn't in the library or the smithy learning to fold metal and forge weapons with Mikken the Stark households Smith and armourer it was something else his brother was good at, the heat of the furnace not bothering him in the slightest. "Yes, " Harris said gesturing to his wolf. "His name is Grim." While Jon himself said "This is Ghost." at the same time and the pair burst into giggles, proof of their drunken state. Nearly forgetting of their encounter with the Deity of Death.

One of the squires interrupted the story he'd been telling to make room at the table for their lord's brother. Benjen Stark straddled the bench with long legs and took the wine cup from his twin's hand. "Summerwine, " he said after a taste. "Nothing so sweet. How many cups have you lads had?"

They both smiled, his brother's white teeth gleamed in the light of the great hall.

Their uncle laughed. "As I feared. Ah, well. I believe I was younger than both of you when I first got myself well and truly drunk." He snagged a roasted onion, dripping with brown gravy, from a nearby trencher and bit into it. It crunched.

His uncle was sharp-featured and gaunt as a mountain crag, but there was always a hint of laughter in his blue-grey eyes. He dressed in black, as befitted a man of the Night's Watch. Tonight it was a rich black velvet, with high leather boots and a wide belt with a silver buckle. A heavy silver chain was looped around his neck. Benjen watched the wolves with amusement as he ate his onion. "A very quiet pair of wolves they are, " he observed.

His brother nodded "They aren't like the others." Harris said and Jon picked up where he left off.

"They never make a sound. That's why I named him Ghost. That, and because he's white." he said.

"And why I called him Grim, I felt it was ironic for a happy pup to be called Grim, for the silence." his twin spoke right after he did as they always tended to do. It annoyed Lady Stark greatly that they were so in tune with each other while her children bickered constantly.

"The others are all grey, reddish-grey or dark grey," Jon said not missing a beat.

Benjen Stark gave the twins a dry look, "Never has that, " he gestured between the two. "Not disturbed me," he said with a smile pulling on the edge of his lips. "There are still direwolves beyond the Wall. We here them on our rangings." He gave them a long look. "Don't you usually eat at the table with your siblings?"

That made his brothers smile to drop and suddenly the Strangers cowled face came to the front of Jon's mind. He imagined the Deity standing over Lady Stark with his sword drawn... he shook his head those weren't his usual thoughts Jon turned to his brother with a confused frown and Harris stared back his purple eyes boring into his own dark grey. Jon turned back to their uncle when Harris got up to leave the hall with a huff.

Uncle Benjen and himself watched him leave, it was never a good idea to get in his brother's way when he was in a mood. "Most times, " Jon said eventually his eyes trailing after his brother as he left, his voice was flat. "But tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard amount them. Never mind two."

"I see." His uncle glanced over his shoulder at the raised table at the far end of the hall when Harris was out of sight. _That poor training dummy_ Jon thought to himself as he focused on where his uncle was looking. "My brother does not seem very festive tonight," he said.

Jon noticed that too when he and Harris returned from the godswood. His brother said a bastard had to learn to notice things to read the truth people hid behind their eyes. His father was observing all the courtesies, but there was a tightness in him that Jon had seldom seen before. He said little, looking out over the hall with hooded eyes, seeing nothing. Two seats away, the King had been drinking heavily all night. His broad face was flushed behind his great black beard. He made many a toast, laughed loudly at every jest, and attacked each dish like a starving man, but beside him, the queen seemed as cold as an ice sculpture. "The queen is angry too, " Jon told his uncle in a low quiet voice. "Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The queen didn't want him to go."

Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. "You don't miss much do you, Jon? Your brother, I've noticed, doesn't much either. We could use more men like you and Harris on the Wall."

Jon swelled at the praise. "Robb is a stronger lance than I am, and Harris a better Marksman, but I'm the better sword, and Hullen says, me an' Harris sit a horse better than anyone in the castle."

"Notable achievements."

"Take us with you when you go back to the Wall, Father will let us leave if you ask him, I know he will," Jon said in a rush earnestly.

Uncle Ben studied his face carefully. "The Wall isn't going anywhere Jon. I don't think you know what you'd be giving up..." He paused when he noticed the scowl forming on Jon's face.

"I don't care about that, Harris wants to see the Wall before we journey south he's convinced somethings going to happen," Jon confessed he had given up on his desire to join the Watch after realising he hadn't really done anything notable in his short life. His eyes were opened the moment he fell in the pond. The Stranger words rang in his head as his eyes stared pleadingly at his uncle.

Benjen nodded at this and gave his shoulder a squeeze before getting up. "I think I better resume your father from his guests, we'll talk more later you should probably go check on your brother, " he said before ruffling his hair the last time and heading for the high table. Jon winced at the thought of facing a broody Harris and looked to Ghost for support before sighing when all he got from the wolf was a tilt of the head.

* * *

**I felt this was better off in this chapter... sorry.**

** Once again any suggestions? Anything anyone wants me to add to the story? Any questions that you want me to answer in the next Authors note? One's that don't involve nagging for spoilers though...**

**.**

**Well wishes,**

**.**

**Wolves**


	8. Chapter Six

**Hope this is to your liking.**** Yours Loyally,**** Wolves**

* * *

Harris

* * *

The yard was quiet and empty. A lone sentry stood high on the battlements of the inner walls, his cloak pulled tight around him against the cold. He looked bored and miserable as he huddled there alone, Harris was glad he wasn't stuck doing that. He always wanted to be free to break any chains that bind him, travel the known land and beyond that. The castle was mostly dark and deserted. Harris had seen a few abandoned holdfasts when he dared venture beyond the walls when hunting, most were dreary places where nothing moved but the wind and the stones kept silent about whatever had lived in them. Winterfell reminded him of that tonight.

The sound of music and song spilt through the open windows behind him. Reminding him of Lady Starks scorn of them, no matter the little love he felt for her, he knew she would never care for them. He stumbled a little more than just a little drunk, Grim was at his heel.

Harris scratched his loyal friend's ear and let out a sigh, the Strangers cryptic words floated into his mind and Harris wanted to be anywhere but Winterfell right now. _The Red Stallion will not survive the Snow. _The only person that could even remotely fit was Domeric. Despite his sigil being the flayed man, he had always spoken of changing it when he became the Lord of the Dreadfort, to a red stallion like his shaggy-red haired northern horse, or like his mother's former house Ryswells sigil. He Meraxes, named for one of the Targaryen dragons, a large beast that was gifted to him by his aunt Barbery Dustin formerly Ryswell. Harris thought of every possible thing that it could mean and only one stuck, Snow was a bastard name like his own.

Domeric's half-brother would be his doom then, and he had no way of knowing if he was already dead, the most likely cause would be poison if not outright murder, from what he had heard of the Bolton bastard, Ramsay. He was cunning, but he had obviously messed up somewhere along the line for Harris to discover him. A witness someone he wasn't able to see or kill without suspicion Harris was leaning on the former, that had spread word about him _'discreetly'. _

Then there was the dreams or nightmares the Stranger spoke of. When they aren't filled with that infernal green flash or the woman's screams. They were of a scrawny boy, who wore a strange wire contraption on the bridge of his nose, strange seemingly seamless clothing and a jagged scar above his right eyebrow, doing impossible feats of what Harris could only describe as magic. If what the God of Death had told them was true, could they do similar things without those sticks many of the people in the dreams had, he wondered?

He growled in frustration at his thoughts that were jumbled from the wine. He snatched a training sword from the racks, turning to the stuffed practice dummies with the smaller hand and a half blunted blade at the ready. Harris began his rapid onslaught of various slashes and thrusts at the torso of the dummy, twisting and turning away from imaginary strikes. Straw and splinters flying all over the place as he gutted the inanimate opponent. Angry tears streaming down his cheeks, _Why, couldn't she love them? why, why why!_ his mind screamed as he hacked away.

"Is it dead yet?" a vaguely familiar voice startled him into spinning around with the sword raised ready to defend himself. His eyes squinted in the dark. "Up here, boy." the voice said from the door to the Great Hall. He wiped away his tears on the sleeve of his shirt, furious at himself for showing weakness to whoever had spoken. His gaze settled on the dwarfed form of the queen's brother. Tyrion Lannister, sat on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, looking like a gargoyle. The dwarf grinned down at him. "Is that animal a wolf?" he said pointing at Grim his green eyes glittering in the dim light.

"A direwolf, " Harris said "His name is Grim." He started up at the little man his sword arm hanging at his side. His anger still simmering beneath the surface of his skin like a dragon, a mighty creature of legend. His brother had always said he had an unhealthy obsession with magic and Targaryen Dragons. He had searched for the fabled eggs of Vermax in the crypts but dared not venture any further than Cregan Stark, because of the strange feeling of dread that always came upon him whenever he got within seven feet of the Stark Lord's crypt.

He often theorised how the Dragon Lords came about creating Valyrian steel, maybe it had a process similar to that of the Skagosii Bonesteel. Where they would smelt iron with the ground bones of their dead and quenched it in the blood of an animal to strengthen the metal. It was entirely possible they used dragon bones, Harris had heard that they were black because of the high iron content in them, it was a known fact that Valyrians used Blood Magicks so it was another possibility.

He read about the Dothraki using dragon bone bows as they were far superior to any other wooden bow, being as strong as steel yet lighter and far more flexible. The only thing that makes this theory difficult is the fact that dragon bones are utterly impervious to fire. Then again, it was also said they had used magic in the forging of the steel so it was a possibility they used magic to work the dragon bone into the metal it would explain why most Valyrian steel weapons are dark and smoky. It could be an effect of the black bones of the dragons used in the process, that is of course if his theory was correct. Harris had no way to prove it because of his distinct lack of dragon bones and magic. Or maybe he just didn't know how to access that magic yet? He thought his drunken mind wandering away from the dwarf again.

"Your uncle is in the Night's Watch." Tyrion's voice startled him back to the present. He blinked his eyes back into focus narrowing on the significantly shorter man.

Harris eyed the dwarf with suspicion, why wasn't he at the feast he wondered. "What are you doing up there? Why are you not at the feast?"

"Too hot, too noisy and I'd drunk too much wine, " the dwarf told him. "I've always wanted to see the Wall."

Harris raised an eyebrow at him a smirk on his lips. "Thinking of joining the Night's watch are you?" he japed feeling somewhat at ease with the small man despite him being a Lannister.

The dwarf grinned at him his eyes turned to Grim and asked: "Might I have a closer look at your wolf?"

Harris blinked up at him puzzling over how he might do that from up there. He shrugged before nodding, "If you can climb down, or shall I fetch you a ladder?"

"Oh, bleed on that, " the little man said. He pushed himself off the ledge into empty air. Harris quirked an eyebrow a lazy grin on his face as he watched Tyrion Lannister spin around in a tight ball, land on his hands, then vault back onto his legs he gave him a slow clap.

Grim backed away from him, his ominous silver-yellow eyes shone with confusion. Harris snorted and bent down to scratch his ears. Tyrion dusted himself off with a laugh and a mocking bow. "I believe I've frightened your wolf. My apologies."

"He's not scared, he doesn't know what to think of you," Harris explained to the dwarf who wasn't as disfigured as rumours would have him believe. Sure his head was too big for his body but that's how most dwarfs looked, they said he had mismatched eyes, one green one black with a brute's squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of a brow. The man was half his brother's height that was true, but he had the same golden blond hair as the other Lannisters and the same emerald green eyes.

Harris stood back up from beside his wolf and his pup went to stand by Tyrion. "Grim, come here. Come on. That's it."

The wolf pup padded closer when his pack-brother knelt beside the half-man. Keeping a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl. "Shy, isn't he?" the Lannister observed.

Harris side-eyed the dwarf, a smirk on his lips. "He doesn't trust you. Your new, he doesn't know you. Hold out your hand, palm up so he can smell it. Let him come to you first, so he knows you aren't a threat." he instructed and watched as he did so.

Grim tilted his head to the side eying the upturned hand warily with his silver-yellow eyes, sniffing the air cautiously before he decided the strange half-man wasn't a threat and approached his black paws padding silently on the snow powdered ground. He nudged it with his nose, looking to his pack-brother for guidance Harris nodded. His wolf was far more intelligent than most would give him credit for. "Alright, you can touch him now, but not on the head he may seem nice now but that can change quickly with one wrong move from you. It has to be somewhere he can see you." Harris explained rubbing his temples slightly as he guided Tyrion in the correct way to pat his wolf.

The smaller Lannister breathed out in awe when he carded his fingers through the thick fur of direwolf. It truly was an amazing thing to have such a powerful beast trust them enough to allow one so close they could pet them. Harris hummed "I've been training him, but a wolf is still a wolf. If I wasn't here he would tear your throat out." It wasn't true yet, but it would be.

"I see, " Lannister said his green eyes not once leaving Grim, just to be sure he wouldn't lose a hand. "In that case, you had best stay close." the dwarf said. He cocked his large head to the side and looked at Harris with his green eyes. "I am Tyrion Lannister."

Harris gave the Tyrion a dry look, he rose. Standing over the dwarf, it felt like he was standing in front of one of his younger half-siblings. It was strange.

"The queens, younger brother." He said in amusement.

"My greatest accomplishment, " Lannister said sarcastically with an eye roll withdrawing his hand from Grim's black fur. "And you must be one of Ned Stark's bastards." Harris felt his anger flare again but squashed it down and gave the half-man an indifferent look.

"What of it? Lord Stark is my father I already knew that. But my mother's name has never once left his lips, perhaps it is to stop me or my brother going looking for her when she is no longer around. I don't really care it wasn't our fault we were born, a bastard is only a part of what we are. It has nothing to do with who we are." Harris sneered his mind wandering back to his thoughts of the Stranger standing over the form of Lady Stark with his greatsword drawn preparing to decapitate her. His sneer faded back to a grimace, he didn't truly want that. Did he?

"Did I offend you?" Lannister said.

Harris grunted and gestured for Grim and Tyrion to follow him. "If I were Jon, my brother, Aye you may have. But as it were, I'm Harris the younger bastard. Not my brother." He said simply pausing and waiting for the little Lannister to follow. He hesitated and Harris rolled his eyes. "I heard you liked to read. I thought I'd show you to the library."

"It's night, and I'm drunk how do I know you won't kill me?" Lannister said.

"You haven't done anything to deserve such hostility from me. I may be a bastard but I still have my honour same as any other man. And there are candles there, I leave plenty and maester Luwin puts out extra for me to use." Harris said matter-of-factly as he leads the way to the library at a slow pace so his dwarf companion could keep up.

"I'm a Lannister," Tyrion said as if that carried some meaning to Harris. It didn't.

Harris stopped by his room first to grab his cloak, pulling it around him leaning the sword against the wall. He'd put it back on the morrow. He strapped his bastard sword to his hip not bothering to retort as he carried on to the library.

Tyrion was good company, he seemed to know a bit about dragons too. They seated themselves at one of the tables in the library with piles of books in front of them, Grim was lying at his feet with his large wolf head resting on his paws.

They spoke of their morbid fascination with dragons. The dwarf told Harris of when he had first gone to King's Landing for his sister's wedding to Robert Baratheon and made it a point to seek out the dragon skulls that had hung on the walls of the Targaryen's throne room. How King Robert had replaced them with banners and tapestries, but Tyrion had persuaded until he had found them in the dank cellar where they had been stored. He told him of how he had expected to find them impressive, perhaps even frightening. Not as beautiful as he found them to be. Harris was in a trance as he imagined them, as black as onyx, polished smooth, the bone shimmering in the torch light as Tyrion described it in great detail.

The teeth were, like long curving knives of black diamond, the massive empty eye sockets that Tyrion could have sworn watched him go. There were nineteen skulls. The oldest was more than three thousand years old; the youngest a mere century and a half. The most recent he said was also the smallest; a matched pair no bigger than mastiff's skulls, and oddly misshapen, all that remained of the last two hatchlings born on Dragonstone. The last of the Targaryen dragons, perhaps he said the last dragons anywhere, and they hadn't lived very long.

Harris frowned when he felt a thrum beneath his skin. Calling for him to reach out for it. Grasp it. Embrace it. He tried to shake the feeling off garnering the attention of both of his companions. "Something is wrong..." he muttered just as the door to the library opened his brother now stood a few feet away from him.

He stumbled forward with a grin plastered on his drunken features. Harris blinked at Jon and the tingling sensation faded away. "Why d'ya read s' much 'Arry?" his brother slurred Harris barely caught him when he stumbled forward again. In a dead faint his features slackening as he dozed off in his twin's arms.

Harris peered through his long hair across the table at Tyrion. "I think my brother has had a bit much to drink. I bid you, a good night Lord Tyrion. I hope to see you soon" Harris said as he slings his brother's arm over his shoulder dragging him out into the cold chill of the night air. All the way back to their room dumping his brother on his mattress, Ghost and Grim curling up at the foot of their beds. Harris kicked off his boots before laying down on his own bed his fingers laced behind his head as he started up at the roof until he eventually nodded off too.

* * *

**Whelp here's to another chapter Harris met Tyrion and Jon was a little more than not drunk. This turned out far different than I had planned but it fits better like this I think.**

** Any suggestions?**

** Well wishes,**

** Wolves;P**


	9. Chapter Seven

**I'm attempting something new in this chapter I don't know how well it will go but here it is don't be too disappointed.**

** Yours loyally,**

** Wolves;p**

* * *

Grim

* * *

_Grim left the warmth of the two-leg Den, his two-leg pack-brothers slept in, to roam the Dark with Ghost. He and his Pack-Brother loped over the Bright Soft Cold with their toughening pads_, _their pack-siblings could not join them. The long red-furred full-grown two-leg had them locked in with the dogs who didn't listen every time the Dark came. He didn't much like how she smelt when around his two-leg pack-brothers, but she was the pack-siblings kin so he could do nothing against her for fear of being cast out._

_They past through the Great Stone arch into the thick woods of the Mournful-Tree with eyes, many scents caught in the wind._

_Ghosts Bright Hot Eyes met his own, but they were not his eyes looking back at him. Grim felt the presence of his two-leg pack-brother but could see them nowhere, the wind changed and Grim caught the scent of a little Bright Winged Feathered One and a noisy Dark Feathered One on the floor of the thick wood, of the Mournful-Tree with eyes, hidden in the low bushes of the Bitter Berries. Sensing the little Feathered One's distress Grim picked up his pace and followed his nose to the Bitter Berry bush._

_His paws halted in front of the bush his eyes met the Bright ones of the little Feathered One and the presence of his two-leg pack-brothers vanished as he curled his body around the little Bright Feathered One while Ghost covered the noisy Dark Feathered One protecting them from the chill of the Bright Soft Cold._

* * *

_Flashback_

* * *

_'No – HEDWIG!'_

_The broomstick spun to earth, but he just managed to seize the strap of his rucksack and the top of the cage as the motorbike swung the right way up again. A second's relief, and then another burst of green light. The owl screeched and fell to the floor of the cage._

_'No – NO!'_

_The motorbike zoomed forward; Harry glimpsed hooded Death Eaters scattering as Hagrid blasted through their circle._

_'Hedwig – Hedwig -'_

_But the owl lay motionless and pathetic as a toy on the floor of her cage._

* * *

Jon

* * *

Jon woke with a start his breathing was laboured and his brow was layered in sweat. He cast a side glance at his brother's bed only to find it empty as it more often than not was early hours in the morn. He figured his brother would be back later but Jon didn't feel like waiting around after another nightmare he didn't understand, perhaps it was as the Stranger said memories of a different life as another person.

His head was pounding and memories of the night prior had him groaning, his brother had stormed off after uncle Ben's comment on their seating arrangement and he found him in the library with the Imp. That was all he could recollect before waking in his bed in a cold sweat.

He pulled his wolf-skin cloak around his shoulders tightly to ward of the cold before heading to the godswood to bathe in the hot springs beneath Winterfell. The most likely place to find his brother early hours in the morning as Jon couldn't hear him in the yard with his bow or sword beating the training dummies.

Jon briefly wondered where Ghost was when his wolf hadn't been at the foot of his bed when he awoke. Then his mind flickered to the first dream of the night and picked up his pace in the dim light of the morning sun that barely grazed the castle walls at this hour. _Warg_ a voice in his mind supplied when he thought of the strangeness of his brother's wolf when the loped through the snow low to the ground as if he _was _Ghost. Unlike his brother who believed there to be a truth to all of Old Nans crib tale, Jon took them with a grain of salt. The impossibility of sharing a body and mind of an animal frightened him greatly yet that dream...

He shook his head as he weaved his way through the thick black trunks of the ironwood and oak trees, trees as old as the realm itself. This place was of a deep silence and brooding shadows Jon had come to associate with his brother and the nameless gods whom many believed lived here. Only it wasn't if the Stranger met with mortals here just as he said other gods did similarly with their champions. If the Stranger himself had pulled them into the depths of the pond to commune with him, did that mean they were _his _champions or heralds? He shivered at the thought of being a herald of Death itself. He was certain if Lady Stark ever got word of this she would have them locked up or cast out of Winterfell.

At the centre of the grove sat his brother beneath the bloody leaves of the heart tree, he was seated on a moss-covered stone. The twins knew their father used often when he came to think or cleanse himself after taking care of deserters, the one from a fortnight ago at the least had been the forth Black Brother to abandon their vows this year. Harris worried over the implications their desertions may hold, Jon had thought he was being paranoid before they met the Stranger in the flesh.

Jon noticed both Ghost and Grim lay at his brother's feet while he huddled over something in his arms. Despite the thousand years of thickly layered humus on the godswood floor, masking his foot-falls his brother seemed to have a sixth sense for when people were near him and Harris' head snapped up his deep violet eyes locked on his own. Jon stopped when a bright grin spread across his brothers face, instantly setting him on edge. Another thing that seemed to be happening more often between the fourth deserter and the meeting with Death personified was the change in his twin's demeanour.

He didn't know if he should be grateful for the change or readying a horse for his brother when he eventually did something he would regret, with how much it disturbed him. Usually, Jon would only catch his brother smiling secretly when misfortune has befallen Lady Stark.

"Harris, what—" he cut himself off when his brother uncovered what he was safeguarding. Revealing two balls of feathers one black and another white with black flecks. Suddenly Jon was hit with Deja Vu when his eyes landed on the white ball and he breathed the name from his second dream in disbelief. " —Hedwig?" He collapsed in front of his brother on his knees holding out his hands for the small white owlet.

Only it was the small black ball of feathers that responded to the name stumbling forth into his hands with widespread black wings. Its beady black eyes stared into his own and Jon instantly knew this to be the bird from his dreams despite its different appearance to the snowy owl of the dream. It was a crow chick more than likely abandoned when it was blown from its nest in the night when Ghost and Grim found them.

He felt his brother looking at him and met his eyes "How–what does this mean?" he said after a pause knowing his brother was better with deciphering the meaning of certain omens than any maester he knew. No offence meant to Maester Luwin, he thought.

His brother grinned again making Jon mentally brace himself. "The gods smile upon us brother. I woke from the strangest dream of Ghost and Grim after the first with a glowing stag that warded of evil spirits from some man dressed in rags..." his brother trailed off with a distant look before grinning again holding up his owlet. "This is Flitwick like those strange people from that castle. I know you know what I mean brother don't deny it. The Stanger had explained this to us, that we were sent here as a second chance at life..."

"And the price for it brother? Why would anyone want to start over from nothing not knowing what would happen? You can't have forgotten the words he had spoken before that. About the pond being a place gods chose to speak with their _champions._ Champions Harris, I-I don't really know what to think of it. Or how our past self came about being the herald of Death." Jon gripes to his twin Hedwig had clawed her way up to his arm as he spoke.

Jon was lost he didn't know what the gods wanted with them and he wasn't certain he wanted to know either but he knew Harris. And his brother would want to find out why they were sent here even if it cost his life and that scared Jon more than Lady Stark or the gods ever did. Harris was his _only_ true-blooded sibling, the only one who truly understood him aside from Arya who was too young to really understand. He didn't want to know what it would be like without his twin.

With his mind been spoken Jon turned away from his brother and left the godswood calling Ghost to heel with Hedwig now perched on his shoulder. His desire to bathe was all but forgotten at the back of his mind thoughts whirling through his head. It was like their disagreement over the Night's Watch and the Citadel all over again.

He was lost in his thoughts not watching where he was going, not expecting to run into anyone at this hour. Anger flashed in him before he froze in shock at who he had bumped into and their own face held a drowsy look of confusion and sorrow.

"Rhaegar?" They asked and it was Jon's turn to frown in confusion. Standing before him tall and golden, with flashing green eyes wearing crimson silk, high black boots, with a lion embroidered on the breast of the ruffled tunic, likely cause of it having been slept in without removing it, roaring in defiance was the Lion of Lannister himself. The _'Kingslayer'. _

* * *

**And cutting it again. I wanted to try the wolf perspective thing I don't know how well that played out because I don't know how animals think.**

** Any advice on improvements is welcome.**

** Well wishes,**

** Wolves. **


End file.
